


Bowled Over

by ClockworkSpades



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 101 dalmatians whomst, M/M, a corgi and a st bernard argue over a human, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 08:46:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15191102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClockworkSpades/pseuds/ClockworkSpades
Summary: Arthur gets bowled over by a dog and her owner





	Bowled Over

Arthur squinted, lifting a hand to shade the sun from his eyes. It was a nice day, surprisingly enough, given how temperamental the weather had been recently. It had been on and off showering for about a week and in his reluctance to get caught out in the rain, he’d put off walking the dog for a couple more days than he usually would’ve. As such, his little corgi had grown expectedly restless. But looking down at her now, he couldn’t help feeling that he might’ve walked a little too far as she panted in the grass beside him.

“Oh dear.” He sighed, crouching down to give her a scratch behind the ears. “Did I wear you out? We’ll go find a cafe and get you a drink before we head home, hm?”

He stood up again, content that the nearest cafe wouldn’t be too much further for his worn out dog to walk. They’d been through Hyde Park dozens of times after all, he knew how far Biscuit could walk from where they were. And he had to admit, he did rather want an excuse to buy himself a piece of cake.

However, he didn’t have time to turn in the appropriate direction, only time enough to register the sight of a tennis ball whipping past his face before a large body collided with his side and sent him crashing to the ground.

His breath left him in a wheeze, all the air choked out of him as he hit the ground. Beside him, Biscuit yipped angrily, evidently quite miffed that her owner had been tackled to the ground by a much larger dog. Warily, Arthur turned his head, half expecting to find a snarling, aggressive beast ready to bite his face off. Instead, he found a contently panting St Bernard, perhaps under the impression that the human beneath it had been the target of fetch in place of the tennis ball a few feet from his head.

“You’re quite heavy, you know.” He wheezed, struggling to draw complete breaths with such a weight on his ribcage. He attempted to lift his arm, but being pinned on his side in such a manner, the dog had planted its feet in a way that prevented him moving them with any strength. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get off.”

Unfortunately, it appeared that the dog did not speak English. Arthur groaned, letting his head drop down onto the grass. At the very least, he wasn’t injured, but that didn’t make lying on the damp grass any less unpleasant. Biscuit, however, seemed to be doing her very best to move the dog as she angrily jumped and yipped around them.

“ _Missy!_  Jesus Christ I’m, I’m really sorry.  _Missy_  get  _off_ , I’m sorry,  _Missy! Come!_ ”

Arthur craned his neck at the sound of the – very American – voice, attempting to locate the owner along with the sound of approaching footsteps. But unfortunately the dog,  _Missy_ , had him pinned too awkwardly for him to see much beyond the treeline. She, however, could look, and turned her head eagerly at the sound of her owner’s voice.

“Missy!”

Missy made a whining noise that was mostly dogbreath, but she got up, putting an unnecessary amount of pressure on Arthur’s ribcage in the process and forcing him to cough up another groan. Muscles now unhindered by the St Bernard, however, Arthur rolled onto his back, heaving a sigh of relief at finally being able to breathe properly. Vaguely, he was aware of a sudden lack of barking. No doubt Biscuit had ceased her yapping once she saw Arthur was okay and proceeded to be her usual friendly self.

“Crap, I’m so sorry.”

Arthur looked up – now with an unblocked eyeline – just in time to see the man who had called Missy away offer his hand. He was indeed American. Even if the accent hadn’t been so obvious, he looked about as stereotypical canned white American man as one could be. Tall, broad, tan, with a wonky pair of glasses and apologetic expression just enough to make him endearingly dorky. Which was to say; he looked like something out of one of Arthur’s wet dreams.

Suddenly he didn’t mind being knocked to the ground so much.

“She’s still young, I’m still trying to keep her in line, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

He took the offered hand, mumbling a thank you as he was hefted to his feet. Behind the man, Arthur could see that his predictions were correct; Biscuit was eagerly sniffing all about the much larger dog.

“It’s quite alright.” Arthur cleared his throat, offering a weak smile as he tried to resist the urge to stare at the gorgeous man in front of him. “She’s not the first big dog that’s knocked me over.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He laughed, an awkward but bright sound that Arthur couldn’t help finding made the American all the more attractive. “I didn’t realise I’d thrown the ball so close to you though, I’m still sorry about that.”

“It’s still alright, it didn’t hit me after all. Only the dog.”

He laughed again, and Arthur was a touch embarrassed to find that his own mouth curved up in a smile as well.

“I’m Alfred, by the way.” Alfred moved his hand, giving Arthur prompt to realise then as they both looked down that they had not let go of one another’s hands. Swiftly, they let go, though Arthur missed the pinkening of Alfred’s cheeks as he found an excuse not to look at him. “And uh, that’s Missy.”

“It’s uhm, nice to meet you. Both of you. Even if one of you did tackle me on first meeting.” Alfred laughed again, and Arthur found the blush on his cheeks darkening at the prospect that he could actually be funny enough to entertain such a gorgeous man. He looked away again to keep from staring, distracting himself with picking up Biscuit’s lead. “I’m Arthur. This is Biscuit.”

“Biscuit? That’s adorable!” Alfred grinned, unfolding the lead in his hand to clip back onto Missy’s collar.

“Yes, well, she…she is rather cute so I thought it was…” He trailed off, fidgeting with the lead in his hands as he realised all ability to be sharp and witty had disappeared from his brain the moment Alfred smiled at him. He was useless around attractive men. “–Why Missy?” He asked instead, distracting himself from his own fumbling.

Alfred’s cheeks pinked at the question, a confusing bashfulness taking over his effortlessly confident demeanour.

“It’s uhm.” Alfred glanced down at the dog, chuckling awkwardly to himself. “It’s short for Ms Marvel, actually.”

Arthur blinked. Of all things he’d expected this man to say, this broad, tall, looking like some kind of American football star sports enthusiast to say, it was not that he’d named his dog after something that sounded like a superhero.

“Marvel like…the films?”

“Uhh, yeah, uhm.” That nervous laugh escaped him again and Arthur watched as Alfred lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “She’s another…superhero, I uhm, I’ve been reading her comics since I was like ten, uh… _God_ I do not usually make myself look this lame in front of cute guys.”

Arthur bit his lip, far too enamoured with how adorably awkward Alfred seemed to even register the fact that he had been called cute by the relative adonis in front of him.

“That’s interesting. I didn’t know she existed.” He offered a small smile, though for the way Alfred looked up so sharply and brightened, Arthur could’ve grinned wider than he ever had if that expression would be fixed on him forever.

Biscuit yipped, interrupting their moment of eye contact.

“Oh, right.” Arthur glanced between Alfred and the dog, realising with some dismay that their conversation would have to end. “I made her walk too far today, I was going to go to a cafe to get her a drink and a rest for a little bit.”

“Oh. Little thing needs a breather, huh?” Alfred nodded, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “Could me- I mean I. Could I, I and Missy just uh, tag along? Let me buy you a drink?”

Arthur had been staring at the dogs, watching the way that Biscuit turned in circles while Missy jumped around her. He’d been resigned to tugging her way, giving a reluctant goodbye to the handsome, endearing American man and trudging off to find the cafe. But Alfred had interrupted, and he blinked, turning his attention back to him with such dumbfounded surprise that he would even consider continuing to speak to him.

“…As an apology?”

“Y-Yeah!” Alfred grinned again, lopsided in a manner Arthur hadn’t noticed the first time he smiled. “And uhm, also as like, a ‘you’re cute can I get your number’ thing?”

Arthur’s cheeks flushed, eyes widening in surprise that should not at all have been so shocking at the question. Alfred wanted his number. Alfred thought he was cute. The latter had in fact already been established had Arthur been paying attention, but he had been too wrapped up in Alfred’s smile to hear it. He opened his mouth to reply, though found himself stammering in search of the appropriate response and swiftly shut it again. Clearing his throat, he nodded instead, looking away to find actual words.

“I, I think that would be…That could be arranged.”

Alfred’s grin widened, confidence returning to his posture.

“Really? Cool, yeah, uh…You know I swear I’m smoother than this usually. You totally would’ve swooned.”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh, a chuckle that he hid behind his hand. He pulled on Biscuit’s lead, eager then to find the cafe with Alfred in tow.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity for that.”


End file.
